


And we'll go out dancing

by orphan_account



Series: Don't do anything stupid until I come back [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Steve Rogers, F/M, genderbend i guess, i just want girl steve in pretty dresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 04:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2375387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stella Rogers and Bucky Barnes have been inseparable since the day they met, 'til now. The war calls Bucky to the front and Stella is left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And we'll go out dancing

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i fell in love with Steve and Bucky's intense slashy friendship thing and I was like 'what if their bromance was half girl?' cue stella rogers in pretty dresses. also, don't worry- stella is still going to be a badass captain america- just with breasts ^_^

Stella Grace Rogers wishes her asthma weak lungs were strong enough to give heft to the words she so desperately wanted to say to Bucky. _I love you_ , she’d shout, earnest and open. She might as well tell someone that the sky was blue and grass was green.

It would mean more if they hadn’t already said it to each other thousands of times.

***

Stella meets Bucky for the very first time in the schoolyard after class has been let out.

She is frail and small, and Bucky is a dark-haired tank, filled with all the righteousness of a ten-year-old.

“Cooties! Stella has cooties!”

Stella takes a few steps towards them, hands balled.

“No! I don’t-“ She breaks off, coughing pathetically into her elbow. Her entire frame shakes with all the strength of a fluttering tissue.

The kids squeal.

A boy dashes up, hollering and waving a big stick.

“Get away from her, you punks! Don’t you know you never treat a dame like that?”

The children run away screaming.

She crumples to the ground, face wet with tears of pain and exertion, until she hears the scuffing of shoes come towards her. A smudged hand extends towards her face, holding a similarly dirty handkerchief.

“You might get the cooties.”

The boy smiles, and warmth fills her small body as he pulls her up with his free hand.

“ I already do.”

Stella coughs and wipes her cheeks with the off-white rag, leaving streaks of dirt on her face.

 “Stella Grace Rogers. You can call me Stella.”

“James Buchanan Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

***

Stella is humiliated in the theater after what feels like her hundredth rejection from the army. She makes her exit, and stomps through a stinking alley.

“Needs every able-bodied American citizen, my ass,” She grumbles, kicking the side of a trash can.

“Ow, fuck.” Her secondhand shoes make every piece of grit known to the bottom of her feet. Just as well that they make kicking an empty trashcan feel like punting a goddamn tank.

“Looks like I’ve been rubbing off on you, and not in the best way.”

Stella looks up into familiar eyes, and squeals, running up to Bucky. He lifts her up, and twirls her in a perfect circle, setting her down gently, as if balancing a feather on the end of a needle. A breath could knock her over just as easily.

“Whoa there, Stells. How’s my best gal?”

Stella tucks her curls behind her ear, fingers clutching at her coat pocket.

“Got rejected again,” She mumbles, still stinging from embarrassment.

“Ah.”

“How ‘bout you? Looks like you’ve had more luck.” Stella reaches up to straighten his tie (which needs no straightening), and sweeps her gaze over his body, taking in his uniform and cap, heavy shoes and neat cuffs.

“The 107th. I’m shipping out tomorrow.”

The duo emerges from the dark, onto the lamplit sidewalk. Bucky hooks her hand into his elbow, and offers her a rolled up newspaper.

“Thought that, this being my last night here, we could go see the future.”

***

Stella collapses onto her mattress, creaky bedframe and all. Boy, but that Howard Stark sure had balls of steel!

Bucky locks the door and flips on the lights to their little apartment. Every sensible person in Brooklyn nearabout had a heart attack when they found out that the two were unmarried and living together, but it was old news in their neighborhood.

“Watch out for Rogers,” they’d laugh; “Barnes is always two steps behind her.”

Stella squirms over to make room for Bucky, but she’s too slow. He slowly collapses on her, careful not to jar her delicate limbs.

“Oh, _Buck!_ Get _off_ me, you effing idiot!”

She jabs at him with her bony elbows.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, before Stella gets up and walks to the other side of the room, which only takes five steps. She opens the topmost drawers in the battered cabinet (they stumbled across the thing by an abandoned lot; one drawer was missing, and a leg was a splintered stub. Bucky had commissioned Thomas’ wagon and the three of them dragged it halfway across Brooklyn. They’d propped up the leg with a wooden block, and Stella used the empty space left by the missing drawer to store her sketchbooks in. The rest of the drawers were for their clothes.) There, under her neatly folded dresses, is a wide, flat box, wrapped in old comics and tied up with twine.

Stells shoves it at Bucky and sits by his side, chin over his shoulder as he opened his gift. He laughs as the lid lifted to reveal a large pair of leather gloves, supple and worn. Bucky slides them on, and clenches his hands a few times.

“Well? Whaddya think? Mrs. Simmons across the street wanted me to do a portrait of her, and promised me a few pennies, but I saw these just sittin’ on the table, gathering dust, and she told me that Benjamin- you remember Ben, the one who taught us how to whistle? Anyhow, he’d already gotten a new pair ages ago, when he left to become a pilot, and they didn’t even need these anymore, so I asked if I could have those instead. Of course, she paid me even after the gloves, and I couldn’t say no, so that’s why I’ve got another treat for you!”

Bucky just sits there as Stella natters on, watching her mouth move excitedly.

“Here! I got taffy!”

Bucky grins as she stuffs a piece into her mouth, and Stella eventually stops talking to work at the candy with her small, gleaming teeth.

God, he’ll miss her.

***

They stay up, playing poker and reminiscing. Stella sketches Bucky a dozen times that night, tracing the thick darkness of his eyebrows with her graphite stick, lovingly shading in soft lips, the smattering of stubble that graces his square jaw. She commits to memory his flashing teeth and charming wink, and the warmth of his hands as she holds them in her own and makes him promise he’ll take her out dancing when he comes back.

“I promise, Stells. Just you and me. As long as you don’t do anything stupid until I return.”

“How could I? You’ll be taking all the stupid with ya, knucklehead!”

***

Morning comes too soon, and Stella is watching Bucky stomp into his shoes while fastening the buttons on his uniform. He catches her staring, and shoots her a too-bright grin. Stella is wearing her favorite dress, a pretty thing with a billowing skirt in soft shades of baby blue that Bucky once told her matched her eyes. He’d bought it for her eighteenth birthday, scrimping and saving every penny he’d earned to get her this one present. _Only the best for my best gal,_ he laughed, when she flung her arms around his necks and showered his face with kisses. Stella remembers this, just as she’d remembered Bucky a thousand times, teaching her how to swim in a community pool, taking her for a ride on a motorbike he’d borrowed from a pal, rubbing her back through her sicknesses. All those years, and she’s never really done anything for Bucky.

Bucky sighs as he sits beside her. She presses her nose into his shoulder. He smells like wool and soap.

“Hey, Stells. Diamond for your thoughts?”

“Doesn’t the saying go ‘penny for your thoughts’?”

“Not for yours, doll. Yours are worth a diamond, at least.”

Stella grins, and rubs her face into the fabric of his coat. He is everything solid and warm. She’s afraid of losing him, Stella realizes, because even when she had nothing, she still had Bucky. But Bucky is leaving, and she doesn’t know when he’ll get back.

“I’m scared.”

“Aw, Stells. You know me. Bucky, the toughest guy on the block. I’ll be back in one piece, alright? Don’t you worry your pretty little head over a thug like me, doll.”

Stella looks at him, really looks at him, and she sees fear- for herself, like always. He’s not afraid of being killed or hurt. He’s afraid of leaving her alone, and that breaks her heart even more than his eminent departure.

“Buck,” she breathes, because _God_ , her chest aches for him so fucking much. How did she deserve him?

***

Bucky’s belongings all fit in a cardboard suitcase, which he clutches in one hand as the other reaches up to ruffle Stella’s hair.

“Stay good for me, alright doll? Wouldn’t want you to drop dead before I got back.”

They both ignore how true his words are.

“Aw, pish. I bet you shoot yourself in the foot your first time holding a gun.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

They share a grin.

Stella walks him to the open carriage door, where he is the last passenger on the train that will take him to his basics training.

“Remember to write, okay Stella? Every day. Tell me about Libby’s kittens and that new bike Ted got. I haven’t gone for a spin but I reckon he’d take you for a ride if you asked nicely.”

“Only if you remember to write back, you big goof! I want to know all about your glamorous lifestyle, sweatin’ with a hundred other men, eating pig slop while I enjoy Ms. Collins’ apple pie…”

Bucky groans. The train whistles, and lads are hanging out the windows waving their final goodbyes. Stella grabs his free hand and curls his fingers around a folded piece of paper.

“Don’t forget, Buck.”

She raises herself on tiptoe and their lips brush just as the train is rolling out of the station.

“God, Stella.” Moans Bucky, as he watches the rail-thin figure grow smaller and smaller. He eventually slides the door shut and slumps into his seat. Bucky unfolds the piece of paper. It’s a self-portrait of Stella, who looks as if she’s about to burst out laughing. Her eyes are wide and shining, and the corner of her mouth is tipped up. _Jerk_ is neatly penned in the corner.

“ _Punk.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i'll come back to this...someday  
> [come yell at me on my tumblr](otterlings.tumblr.com)


End file.
